Monday, February 24, 2014

How do you feel about strangers disciplining your children? My two year old, Claire, and I had such an incident recently. It started innocently enough...

We stepped onto an elevator behind another man. The three of us took our places and waited for the doors to close. In the beat before we were moving, Claire reached up to push a button.

The man yelled, “Don’t push that!”

The volume of his voice filled the small space of the elevator car with import. Stunned, Claire pulled her index finger out of the air and hid it in the palm of her other hand. She turned around and looked at him, her brow knitted in confusion.

I took a deep breath and said to my daughter, “It’s ok, Claire. Go ahead and push it.” She did. I turned to him and said, “She likes to push the buttons, so we’ve taught her how to press the 'close door' button.”

He responded, “Oh, I thought she was pushing a random floor.”

There you have it. We were on our way up. No apology from the man for yelling at my daughter. We rode the rest of the way in silence.

My head wasn’t silent though. Inside, I was roaring. I tried to remind myself of other encounters with strangers, the ones I’m grateful for. The time when someone stopped my daughter when she’s broken away from me in a crowd. The time someone picked her up after she has fallen at the park. The many, many times that people have simply returned her friendly "hello". I tried to remember that this man's behavior was an aberration, or to look at things from his perspective. Telling myself these things was not enough to counteract the other voices in my head.

I was thinking about how much I wanted to tell the man that he had crossed a line.

I was thinking of saying that, unless my daughter is about to set herself or someone else on fire or something of that ilk, discipline is my domain and privilege as her mother.

I was thinking, “Dude, I get the terrible repercussions of accidentally having to stop at another floor on an elevator (dripping sarcasm here), but keep your big, fat trap shut. Try picking on someone your own size, you selfish bully!”

Instead of saying these things, I’m writing them here. Perhaps, I didn't say anything in the moment because Claire was with me. Or because I was trying to take the high ground. Or because I'm a wimp. Perhaps, I was worried that if I got started, I wouldn't be able to stop. Perhaps, this blog is my place to vent; where I go to find support from like-minded moms or to see if others have a different perspective to offer.

It’s not Claire and my first encounter on the elevator either. About a year ago, I wrote a post about a stranger who ignored Claire's hello on the elevator, and how angry and sad the interaction made me. I didn't say anything to that man either. That post brought out particularly impassioned opinions from readers. People on one side believed that the man was small and pathetic, and that ignoring the friendly gesture of a child is the lowest of low. People on the other side believed that I shouldn't have been angry at all, who told me that I should have given the man the benefit of the doubt or considered that he might have been having a bad day or, worse, a bad life.

So folks, what do you think? Have you ever had an adult behave in a way towards your children that rubbed you the wrong way? How do you feel when strangers step in to tell your child what to do? How do you think I handled this man? Should I have flat out told the man not to discipline my children or that his tone was aggressive? Or should I have let it go? Should I have given him the benefit of the doubt and gone on with my day? Now that the incident is over and I have time to reflect, I find myself filled with questions…

Connect with: Bloglovin', FB, Twitter, G+, PinterestWelcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

Sunday, February 16, 2014

My daughter, Claire, and I engage in all kinds of kid-friendly activities on a daily basis. We read books, do puzzles, make play-doh, sing songs, wash her baby dolls, bake cookies, occasionally, we enter a land of make-believe.

When I say occasionally, I mean that this morning I said to my two year old, “I don’t want to play castle and princesses right now.” I also mumbled under my breath, “Imaginative play just isn't my favorite thing.”

The mumble part was directed at no one in particular, but my husband, George, piped in with, “But it’s her favorite!” His tone was filled with implication or, at least that’s how I heard it.

What I heard was that I was guilty of depriving my daughter of a vital experience that was essential to her very being.

My husband’s no dummy. He knows just how to get to me. He had appealed to an insidious side of myself. -- the part that desires to be all things to all people at all times, especially my daughter. I almost bought into it, too. I almost succumbed to the "perfect mommy" myth.

But then I remembered something about my husband. I remembered how George flat out refuses to indulge in sensory play with Claire. I'm talking the second I even mention the word "cloud dough", he practically alerts the press about his refusal to get all messy and stuff.

Sensory play is considered mom's domain. I graciously abide.

So I’m taking a cue from my husband. I do not need to be all things for my daughter. It's fine if she sees that I have limits. It's fine if she learns that people have tastes and likes, and that they don’t always jibe with hers. It’s fine if papa is the one who wears the crown around this house.

In many ways, I am serving all of us by saying "no"...to imaginative play and to other things as well. I’m letting my husband have his own unique relationship with Claire. I’m showing my daughter I'm human, I'm teaching her some valuable things about being authentic in relationships, and I'm modeling how to respect her needs. I’m also protecting us all from mama burn-out.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that I can’t occasionally don a crown and hold a staff in the name of my daughter's continued development. It also means I don’t have to buy into my husband’s attempt at a snow job either.

Connect with: Bloglovin', FB, Twitter, G+, PinterestWelcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Blogging has become the equivalent of a church confessional of sorts. Okay, I'm game! Or, rather, I have no shame...which brings me to my first confession: I would do anything for a laugh, including fessing up to some Bad Mommy moments. My second confession? Some of these dirty little secrets amount to more than "moments"...

I'm guilty of...
#1 - Lying to my two year old, Claire, about my phone being broken, so I don't have to watch Elmo again.#2 - Serving the same meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.#3 - Pretending to be sicker than I really am, so my husband takes over childcare duties for awhile.#4 - Shoving a Mallomar in my mouth, while secretly hiding from Claire in the kitchen.#5 - Only cutting my daughter's fingernails when we go somewhere special.
#6 - Playing hide and go seek together, so I can take a power nap while Claire’s looking for me.#7 - Rationalizing that its ok to not brush her teeth at night, because there's always tomorrow.#8 - Using my daughter as an excuse to get out of social engagements.

#9 - Leaving one too many sippy cups of spoiling milk lying around the house.#10 - Celebrating loud fart noises with my daughter.#11 - Counting down the days til Claire goes to preschool.

#12 - Having no desire to go back to work, once preschool starts.

#13 - Blogging and ignoring my daughter (like right now).#14 - Only believing #13 is such a crime, because the rest don't really amount to much in the scheme of life.

So, folks, how many "Hail Mary's" do I need to say? Am I absolved yet?

Sunday, February 9, 2014

"What do you do?"...The proverbial conversation starter that leaves me flummoxed every time.

“Um…I’m just at home, taking care of my daughter, Claire,” I said almost apologetically to a woman at a party recently...

Dead silence…

So I filled the air with: “I used to be a teacher..What do you do?”

Why did I feel so taken off my center by a complete stranger's question? Why the “just” part? Why did I need to reference my former life at all? Why did I shift the focus off of me?

It’s not as if I don’t think I have anything to say about being a mom. Hell, I’m writing a blog about it!

Part of my unease had to do with the “do” bit. I don’t do mothering. I am a mother.

Plus, no one wants to hear what I do everyday. That’s one of the wild things about parenthood. The daily doingness of it can be banal and mindless. Yet, I do these things for this sublime creature, and will gladly do them over and over again. I don’t want to talk about them over and over again, though.

Nor does everyone at a party want to listen. I'm paranoid that people are going to hear "mom", and think I’m going to trap them into self-absorbed talk about children at any moment. Indeed, a guy at the party did get stuck in just such a conversation. Another woman at the party started talking about how long to breastfeed on each breast. This guy just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now, me, I was interested in this topic. I'm all about the breast. I'm also mesmerized by every little thing my daughter and other little ones do. My husband too. He actually contributed valuable insight to this conversation. But this single guy in his 30’s? I doubt he was that interested. Talking about babies is an acquired taste.

Likewise, the single woman who I rendered speechless with my latest career as a SAHM. I do understand her, completely and utterly. I used to be her, living in New York City. Manhattan is supposed to be exciting, an exotic place of adventure and surprise. Each night is supposed to hold endless possibility. When I was her, I didn’t want to hear about things like nighttime feedings either. Discussions about the night needed to be about the next party not the party in the diaper.

So there it is – I am now the woman who ruins the mystique of Manhattan for single people.

Really, I am so happy to be Claire’s mom. I don’t miss the career I left behind. Clearly, I have what's referred to as a "first-world problem" here. Still, that type of changing of the guard stings a bit.

Just you wait until Claire's old enough to find Manhattan an exotic place of adventure and surprise. I'm sure I'll be tons of fun then…

Connect with: Bloglovin', FB, Twitter, G+, PinterestWelcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

Thursday, February 6, 2014

I had a dream late in my pregnancy that I gave birth to what I called “The Big Buddha Baby”. In it, my daughter entered the world full force, all round-faced and chubby, happy and smiling.

I found my dream funny, because I'd read that some women dream of giving birth to babies with green heads or to animals like fish. I'd heard that the cause of this psychedelic dreaming is fear of the unknown and anxiety about giving birth. My dream was quite optimistic, not normally like my usual doom-and-gloom self.

I also thought my dream couldn’t possibly be prophetic, because I believed that babies generally come out scrawny, misshapen and not so happy to greet the world. Sure enough, with the exception of the smiling part, Claire was the epitome of "The Big Buddha Baby" -- weighing 8 pounds 6 ounces and with a full shock of hair. She continues to be at the 85 percentile of weight for her age, and the size of her belly is matched only by the roundness of her cheeks.

Her Buddha-like qualities go beyond the physical too.

When Claire was a really little baby, many people asked me if she were on a schedule yet. I was so perplexed by this question that I didn’t know how to answer. Like most children, my daughter was and is so fully in the moment. More than me training her to be on a schedule, she has taught me how to be in the present. It's not something that comes naturally to me.

She's two and a half now. Just like when she was a baby, I lie with her while she's falling asleep. I listen for that deep breathing -- the sign that she's dreaming of her own big Buddha. The breathy cadence of those little lungs breathing in and out, making that sweet, sweet baby version of a snore -- its 's a beautiful sound...when I'm really listening. Instead, I'm usually making a list in my head of all the things that I’m going to do during her slumber (most are very exotic -- like doing the dishes, checking my email or going to the bathroom)…

Then, she wakes up. I'm crestfallen. “Wait, I’ve just gotten her to sleep! What about all those things I’d planned?” I think. If I’m not careful, my expectations become more important than being with my child.

Sometimes, I get so ahead of myself, I’m sure I can predict the future. Claire usually finds a way to surprise me. My husband, George, will come home late at night and I will say pessimistically, “I’ve tried everything to get her to sleep, and I’ve been at it for hours! She's NEVER going to go the f7&k to sleep!"

He’ll say, “Here, let me try”....She’ll be asleep in five minutes.

I think, “Wait! I just tried the same thing. It didn’t work!”

Would I rather be right or have her asleep? The latter, for sure.

Of course, there are things that need to get done, and I would absolutely, 100% be lying if I said that the fact that I can't get her to fall asleep doesn't drive me crazy. The need for mommy "me" time is important too.

But that's beside the point here. The point is that I can get lost in my own head thinking about this problem or that thing on my to-do list. I can be completely sure that I know what's going to happen next.

Suddenly, I look over at Claire, and she's smiling. Her eyes are piercing the darkness, while her nose crinkles. Sometimes, she will touch her hand to my cheek and say, "Mama!"

In vain, I try to gather a presentable-to-society outfit. I try to text my friend, as I race out the door. His number isn’t in my cellphone! How is that possible?! I rush to the restaurant. What? He’s not here. I check his emails on my phone…

Our plans are for NEXT Friday! Oh! Duh...and crap!

(Later, I notice that his number was actually on our email correspondence.)

I am out of practice about having a “real” life. You know, meeting friends and such. Does my scatterbrained state of confusion suggest I'm suffering from the proverbial “Mommy Brain”?

It’s true. I exist in some sort of vague reality that's off the

time/space continuum. I have morphed into a toddler state of mind, complete with fairies and unicorns.

Yet, I struggle against the “Mommy Brain” cliché. I want to believe it’s an old wives’ tale. “Mommy Brain” seems to add to the stereotype that moms (particularly of the Stay-at-home variety) aren’t current -- that we have lost our edge and are no longer “productive” members of society.

It’s why I put “real” in quotes above. I mean I have a real life! It’s just not my former life.

Is my child literally making me lose my mind?

I do see evidence of “Mommy Brain” all around me. I am more likely to know the words to a song from the movie, Frozen, than the hot topic of The State of the Union address. I’m more apt to read Dr. Seuss than Dr. Anyone Else Adult.

The other day, our family went out to brunch. The waiter asked me if I wanted more coffee. I looked at the table and said, “Uh, I can’t find my cup.” The waiter responded generously, “Um, ma’am, It’s in your hand.”

I didn’t make this interaction up, folks! Maybe, I should be blaming it on my toddler!

So I googled “Mommy Brain”, and found some interesting stuff. It turns out that our babies aren’t the only ones growing. According to a study, the grey matter in mom’s brain actually grows too! It gets bigger in the areas of the hypothalamus, prefrontal corext and amygdala. These areas control emotional regulation, motivation, planning and foresight! Not bad, mamas!

The authors of the article do suggest that memory lapses, such as forgetting names (or that one’s coffee cup is in one’s hand), may be due to a shifting set of priorities.

I like that one better too. I would rather say that my priorities have changed to caring for my daughter than to say I have “Mommy Brain”.

Yeah, I’m going with that one, and with the fact that I have a bigger brain since having Claire!

What do you think? Have you had "Mommy Brain" moments? Do you think "Mommy Brain" is real or an old wives' tale?Connect with: Bloglovin', FB, Twitter, G+, PinterestThis photo is public domain, but it's use does not suggest that the licenser endorses me, it's use or this blog.Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)